


The Look Of Love (Fic and fanart)

by look_turtles



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/look_turtles/pseuds/look_turtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda for 4C. John and Harold's relationship changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Look Of Love (Fic and fanart)

The city was covered in a blanket of gray. The sky was covered with clouds. A cold rain fell and water slid down the back of John's shirt, chilling his skin.

He walked down an empty street looking for a liquor store. He wanted many things, not least of all was for Carter to still be alive, but he would settle for a bottle of whiskey.

The door of a bar opened, spilling yellow light onto the concrete and a man stepped out into the rain. He was wearing a dark three piece suit and was holding a black umbrella.

He looked like Finch and something in John's chest clenched. Sometimes he thought about checking in on Finch, but he knew that would be a bad idea. It would be too easy to get sucked back in. Plus he was still mad at The Machine.

The man passed John on the sidewalk and John had to force himself to keep his eyes straight ahead.

He continued to walk until he came to a liquor store. It was a small brick building. A faded sign for cigarettes sat in the window. He pushed the door open, a bell dinged over head and he walked in. 

He went straight to the bottles of booze and chose a bottle of something cheap.

Walking to the cashier he pulled a crumpled twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and laid it on the counter.

Suddenly a movement to his left caught his eye. Turning his head he saw a man wearing a black ski mask. He was holding a gun in shaky hands.

John turned and held up his hands.'Don't do anything stupid.'

The man pointed the gun at John's chest. 'Shut up! I don't want to shoot you, but I will.'

John had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. This guy was obviously new to the whole robbery game. John stepped forward.

The man took a step back. 'Stay back! I mean it!'

John took another step forward and even though his movements were slowed by alcohol he grabbed the barrel of the gun and wrenched it out of the guy's hand. He wiped the gun on his shirt to get rid of his finger prints, just in case.

The shocked man just stood there, his eyes wide behind his mask. He started to shake.

John grinned and the man's eyes went even wider. 'See. I told you you wouldn't shoot me. Now I can either hit with the butt of this gun or tie you up, your choice.'

'Tie me up just don't hurt me.'

John turned to the cashier who looked pale. 'Do you have any rope?'

'Ah... In sporting goods next to the jerky.' She was shaking.

He took some rope and tied up the suspect who was docile, but than shock did that to people. It was either that or the fact he gave the cashier the gun and told her to aim for a shoulder if the masked man moved.

The nylon rope was familiar, it reminded him of when his stepfather would take him camping, but he wasn't going to think about that. 

After the man was tied up John went back to the counter and picked up his bottle. 'How much to I own you?'

'Ah... It's on the house.'

As he walked out of the store the cashier said 'What do I tell the police?'

'Just tell them you were helped by a concerned citizen.'

'Who are you?'

He stopped in his tracks. That was a good question. He answered with the only thing he could think of. 'I'm no one.'

He walked to his motel room, holding his liquor in a brown paper bag. The motel room was completely unremarkable. The walls and carpet were brown and the bed was covered by a faded floral bedspread. A bad watercolor hung above the bed.

Walking over to his bed he opened his bottle and took a swig. The liquor burned his throat. He sat down on the bed and turned on the television. 

As noise from the television filled the room he slid back until his back hit the headboard and drank his liquor. He flipped through a few channels but there was nothing on. Turning off the television he decided to do something to pass the time.

He slid his free hand down the front of his jeans and rubbed his cock. He hadn't choked the chicken in awhile and now was as good as time as any. It was a shame that the motel was too cheap to offer porn, but John had a good enough imagination.

He set his bottle on the nicked wooden table next to his bed and unbuttoned his shirt. He rubbed his nipple until it was hard. Reaching over he grabbed a tube on skin lotion that was next to his liquor bottle. It wasn't lube, but it would do.

He coated his fingers and closed his eyes.

He laid back and let his mind drift. Images of breasts and round asses filled his mind. Popping the button on his jeans he pulled out his half-hard cock and slid his hand up and down the shaft.

As his hand moved up and down his mind settled on the image of an attractive blond giving him a blow job. Her pink lips wrapped around the head of his cock as he squeezed it.

He could feel his orgasm building, it was a heat in his stomach. Suddenly the image in his mind changed. Instead of blond hair in changed to spiky down hair and soft female features gave way to hard masculine ones. The eyes were still blue, but black glasses famed them.

His muscles tightened and he shut his eyes as he came. 

After he had came down from his orgasm he laid back and stared at the cracked plaster ceiling.

'Fuck!' He exclaimed.

He had no idea what had just happened, but he did know that he had come harder than he had in years.

Over the next few weeks he convinced himself that it had been a fluke, but a small treacherous voice said that it wasn't.   
****************

Weeks later, John walked down a street in Rome; his shoes clinked on grey cobblestones. The Italian sun warmed his skin, but all he could focus on was Harold walking next to him. Every so often he caught a whiff of Harold's cologne. It was a cool scent. If he had thought that (what he called) The Choke The Chicken Incident had been a fluke being close to Harold had proved that it wasn't.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he had longed for just the scent of Harold's cologne. He had thought going to Rome would be far enough away to forget about Harold and saving people, but The Machine had other ideas.

He didn't know weather to thank or curse The Machine for that. It all depended on what happened next.

John wanted to say something to Harold, something that for better or worse would change their relationship, but he wasn't sure how. He could disarm a knife wielding maniac in seconds, but when it came to talking about his feelings he was lost. 

Being on that plane had reminded of being in an airport and not being able to tell Jessica to wait for him and he didn't want that to happen again. He was old enough to know that regret could cut deeper than any knife.

He licked his lips. 'Finch. I want to say something.'

Harold turned to look at him. 'Of course what is it?'

'I... I feel...' He couldn't get the words out so he acted. He took Harold's hands in his own and kissed his fingertips.

Harold's eyes went wide. 'Oh, dear.'

John dropped Harold's hands. 'It doesn't have to mean anything. I'm sorry.' He turned away not wanted to see when Harold's look of shock turned to disgust, or even worst pity.

Harold grabbed John's shoulder. 'John, look at me.'

John turned around and slowly brought his gaze up to Harold's face, preparing himself for what he would see there. All he saw on Harold's face was concern.

Harold licked his lips. 'I may not be well versed in human interaction, but do you have romantic feelings for me?'

John shrugged. 

'I see. Why now?'

'Why not? I'll understand if you want to just forget about this.'

Harold touch John's shoulder just rest his hand on it. 'I'd rather not forget about it. I... That is to say...'

Harold then took John's hand and kissed John's fingertips. John just grinned, it looked like Finch was just as bad talking about his feelings.

He reached up with his free hand and cupped Harold's face. Harold smiled. John was about to kiss Harold when Harold beat him to it. He leaned close and brushed his lips against John's cheek. 

John turned his head and their lips met. Harold's lips were rough and chapped but John just wanted more. He wanted those lips against his body, not just against his lips.

After several long moments he broke kiss and rested his chin on Harold's shoulder. He breathed deeply the scent of Harold's cologne. It was even better up close. 

'We should get a hotel room.' John said.

'Of course. I know of a nice hotel that has a bed big enough for two.'

'Sounds good to me. Lead the way.'

He barely noticed his surroundings as they walked through the city. They walked close and every once in awhile Harold's hand would brush against his own.

They made their way m to a hotel. The lobby was shades of brown on the walls with a deep red carpet on the floor. Reproductions of famous paintings hung on the walls. Flowers sat in colorful vases, filling the air with a sweet scent.

Harold spoke to the man at the desk and he revived a card key. He used the name Harold Puffin and John grinned. He couldn't wait until Harold ran out of bird names and had to call himself Harold Woodcock; that was a porn star name if John ever heard one. 

They took an elevator up to their room, standing close as they went into their room.

The room was large. The walls were off-white and the carpet was white and plush. In the middle of the room was a large bed covers with white sheets and fluffy pillows. Large windows led to a patio and the room was bathed in yellow sunlight.

'Do you like it? I could request another room.' Harold said.

'Considering I've spent the last couple of weeks in a fleabag motel it's great. 

'Wonderful. Would you like to go to the art show after I call my tailor?'

John yawn. Seeing that large bed suddenly made him tired. 'I could use a nap first.'

'I see. Would you like me to order you a pair of pajamas.'

'I'm good. Will you sleep with me?'

Harold grinned, his whole face lit up and John's breath caught. 'Of course. Would you like to undress me?'

Now it was John's turn to grin. 'Sounds good to me.'

Harold moved with John to the center of the room and John got to work. He started by pulling off Harold's orange tie and letting it fall to the floor. He then worked on Harold's brown suit. With each garment removed more skin was revealed and John's mouth watered. He wanted to kiss that pale skin.

Once Harold's chest was bare John reach out and ran his fingers through Harold's dark chest hair. His nipples were pink. As John moved his hand back and forth Harold groaned.

'Like that, huh?' John said.

'Oh yes.'

'I'll have to remember that.'

He slid his hand down and reached Harold's pants. He popped a button and couldn't help but notice the bulge in Harold's pant. Pulling the pants down pale thighs he took a moment to stare at Harold's red silk boxers; Harold was half-hard, but there would be time to take care of that later. His stomach was bulgy and John just had to touch it.

Harold had to sit down to remove his pants all the way. Once he was done he stood up, moved close and unbuttoned John's shirt.

His eyes went wide. 'Oh, dear.'

'What?'

'Your shoulder is injured.'

'Oh. It's fine. It's just a flesh wound.'

'That may be, but I'd still like to tend to it.

'Okay. Just be gentle.' John said as a joke.

'Of course I will. Let me make a few calls.'

John laid down on the bed as Harold made a call. The sheets had a clean fresh smell; it was much better than the motel John had stayed at that smelled of dust.

Once Harold was done he came over to the bed and laid down next to John. John touch warm skin with gentle fingertips. Harold touched John chest.

He reached over and removed Harold's glasses; even though they had kissed it seemed strangely intimate. He carefully put them on an end table.

After several minutes of just touching they kissed. It started as a brush of lips and quickly turned sloppy. John pushed his tongue against Harold's mouth and Harold opened his mouth. Their tongues brush against each other. It went straight to John's cock. He was about to undo his pants when there was a knock at the door.

Harold got up and threw on a robe.

Harold opened the door and was met by a bellhop in a red uniform. They exchanged a few words in Italian and Harold was given a bag.

Harold walked back to the bed and sat down, the bag rested on his lap.

'Let me see your wound.'

John took off his shirt and Harold removed the bandage from John's shoulder and looked at the wound. 

'Hmm.'

'What?' John asked.

'It's nothing. It seems you were right about it being just a flesh wound. That's very fortuitous.'

'Great. Can we go back to kissing?'

'Of course just let me clean and dress the wound.'

Harold cleaned the wound and put a clean bandage on it. Harold stood up and unbelted his robe, letting it slide to the floor. John reached for him and kissed Harold's shoulder; his skin was warm and soft.

They laid down and Joun pulled Harold into his arms. He was a warm weight against John. They laid like that until they both fell asleep.

John woke up and for a moment he couldn't understand why he as bed with someone. His sleep addled brain was fuzzy. Suddenly understanding dawned on him and he grinned. 

Light from the setting sun was spilling into the room turning the white walls golden. 

He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so long or so well. His dreams were usually plagued with nightmares, images of Joss dying in his arms would awaken him, but he couldn't remember having dreamed at all.

Harold was still asleep and John rubbed Harold's chest hair. He slid his hand down to Harold's stomach. 

Harold groaned and moved closer to John. 

'Morning,' John said as he kissed Harold's shoulder.

'Good morning? It's evening.'

'Oh. Well good evening then. Speaking of evenings, looks like we missed that art show you wanted to go to.'

'We can always go tomorrow.'

'Really? We should make a vacation of it. I might want to get back to work, but it can wait a day.'

'That sounds delightful.'

John slid his hand down Harold's stomach and across the bulge in his boxers. Harold groaned. If they were going to have a vacation they could at least get it off to a good start.

'Looks like you've got some serious wood there, Harold. Want some help with that?'

'Very much so. Have you ever brought another man to orgasm by touch?'

'Only myself. Anything I should know?'

'The head of my penis is very sensitive.'

'Okay. Just let me take care of you. You wouldn't happen to have any lube?'

'It's in the pocket of my pants

John smirked. 'Why Harold Finch I had no idea you were so kinky.'

'I just like being prepared for every eventual outcome.'

John got up and found Harold's pants crumpled on the floor. He pulled a half-empty tube out of the pocket and made his way back to bed.

Once he laid behind Harold again he slicked up his hand and pulled down Harold's boxer and Harold hissed as his cock was freed. His cock was longer and thicker than John's own. The head was a deep red and his balls were covered with dark hair. John foundered the balls and Harold groaned.

John reached for the cock and gave it a through experimental strokes.

'Tighter,' Harold gasped out.

John tightened his grip and slid his hand up and down. Once he reached the top he gave the head a twist and Harold came shouting. John continued to stroke until Harold was spent. 

John kissed Harold's shoulder. 'Was it good for you?'

'Oh yes. Would you like for me to bring you to orgasm as well?'

'Sure.'

Harold rolled over and reached for John. John just laid there and grinned. He was going to enjoy his vacation.

After Harold had jerked him off John went into the bathroom and studied himself in a large mirror. There was a purple bruise just above his eye and his face was covered with stubble.

He saw a razor and shaving cream sitting on the sink and came to a decision. 

He lathered up his face and began to shave. As the razor slid across his face revealing clean skin he felt more like himself. He wished he had a white shirt to put on, but that would have to wait.   
**************

John was sitting is a small airplane. The seats were even more comfortable than the ones in first class; apparently Harold speared no expense when it came to buying planes. John was just happy that no one was trying to kill him or even worse that some older lady was talking his ear off. 

He stared out a small window and watched the clouds pass by.

They had gone to the art show and Harold talked about metaphysical art and landscapes, but all John saw was paintings of buildings. The one good thing about the show was that Harold kept talking, he could listen to that voice for hours. They even held hands like a couple of love struck teenagers.

They never did make it to Finch's tailor, but they spent most of there time in their hotel room having sex. They would jerk each other off and John discovered a fetish for chest hair. 

Even though John knew it was childish, he would sometimes pretend that they were two normal people on vacation. They were not normal, not by any stretch of the imagination. Their job would most likely kill them and the best he could hope for was to die before Finch.

John settled back against his seat and dozed off and on until they arrived in New York.

They took Harold's car to The Library and John was almost bowled over by Bear.

John sat on the paper covered floor and ran his fingers through soft brown fur. Bear licked John with a wet pink tongue.

'Did you miss me, boy?'

'He did. He's been very despondent since you left,' Harold said.

'Really?'

'Oh yes. He wouldn't even eat his favorite doughnuts.'

'I missed you too.'

'Are you talking to Bear or me?'

'Both,' John said as he stood up.

Suddenly a phone rang and Harold went over and picked it up. His eyes went wide as he listened to who was on the other end.

He handed the phone to John. 'It's Root she wants to talk to you.'

John took the phone. 'What is it?'

'It's nice to talk to you too, John. I just wanted to say that The Machine is pleased that your back. I think she missed you.'

John rolled his eyes. 'That's great. Now you listen, if you betray Harold in any way I will make my personal mission to track you down and kill you. Understood?'

'Oh John. There's no need for the guard dog act. Harold and I have a common enemy.' With that the phone went dead.

'What did Ms. Groves want?' Harold asked.

'Nothing important. Just more crazy.'

Harold tongue came out to wet his lips. 'Oh, I see. I just received a new number.'

'Already?'

'Unfortunately.'

'Do you already know who it is?'

'I do. It is a number that has come up several times before.'

'Please tell me it's not Leon.'

'It is Mr. Tao.'

'Damn. He's either the luckiest or the unluckiest bastard I know.'

'Indeed.'

John and Finch walked up the stairs to Finch's workstation. It was time to get to work.  
***************

In the end it was surprisingly easy to find Leon. A camera in the parking lot of his apartment building showed him being stuffed into the trunk of a town car and a check of the DMV database showed that the car belonged to one Armando Langoustini; an enforcer for the the Italian mob.

John was now in an abandoned warehouse. The air was thick with dust and sunlight was streaming through the holes in the ceiling.

Two gun toting bad guys were standing around waiting for something. John just grinned, it was too easy. He raised his gun and fired off two shots, hitting each man in the knee sending them crashing to floor. He went over to them and knocked them out with a quick hit to the head. He didn't notice the figure behind him until he heard Bear growl.

He turned around and came face to face with Armando. He was at least six feet tall, balding and was wearing an expensive suit. 

John was about to raise his gun when he heard a crash and Armando fell to the ground. Fusco was standing behind him hold his gun.

'Thanks.' John said.

'Don't mention it.'

John went over to Armando and smack his face until he woke up.

'Where's Leon?'

'Screw you,' Armando said with a sneer.

'Wrong answer.'

He hit Armando again and he passed out.

'You got this?' He asked Fusco who was cuffing the other two guys.

'Yep. So, you back?'

'Yeah. I didn't know you cared.'

'I don't. It just that Shaw can be scary.'

John and Bear walked out of the warehouse.

'Mr. Reese. Are you alright?' Harold said in John's ear.

'Yep. Leon wasn't there. You got any new information for me?'

'I believe I have discovered the location of Mr. Tao.'

John went to another warehouse and after determining that it was unguarded he walked in and found Leon tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth. 

John went over to Leon and pulled off the gag.

'Thank God.'

'We really need to stop meeting like this.'

'Yeah. Yeah. You've said that before.'

John stood up and walked away.

'Hey! You can't leave me like this!' Leon said as he struggled to free himself.

'Sure I can. Think of it as a learning experience.'

John went outside and got on his motorcycle. Bear hopped into his sidecar and they rode down the city streets. 

He stopped in front of a stoplight and he couldn't help but notice that he was in front of a bar. His mouth watered; God he wanted a drink. He knew that would be a bad idea on so many levels.

Bear barked as the light turned green.

'It okay, boy. Let's go.'

They drove back to The Library. 

Harold was waiting in the doorway. He was framed by yellow light. 'Did you rescue Mr. Tao?'

'Sort of. I left him tied to a chair.'

Harold's eyes went wide. 'Mr. Reese!'

'Relax. I told Fusco to cut him loose in an hour. Maybe if I leave him there he'll learn not to piss people off.'

'That's doubtful. On an unrelated note, I was able to purchase you a new suit, but it will need alterations.'

'Lead the way.' 

They went down to a lower level of The Library and John stood in the middle of the room. It wasn't the first time Harold had taken his measurement, but it was different this time. 

He took off his clothes and put on the new suit that was hanging on the back of a chair. As he buttoned up his white shirt it felt like he was putting on a second skin.

Harold got to work. He got down on his knees and begin measuring John with a measuring tape. He wet his lips with his pink tongue and it went straight to John cock; there was so many things Harold could do with that tongue. Things John may or may not have fantasied about. 

After several long minutes Harold looked up.

'Oh, dear.'

'What?'

'It would seem there's tightness in your crotch. I won't be able to take a proper measurement until it goes down. Perhaps I should take of it for you?' Harold reached up and kneaded John's groin. 

John had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming.

'Go for it,' he said to Harold. 

Harold unzipped John's pants and pulled out John's cock. It was already hard, the tip was a deep red.

Harold licked his lips and wrapped his lips around the tip. His tongue swirled around it. He moved his head back and forth, taking more of the cock into his mouth each time.

John concentrated on the wet heat around his cock. He rested his hand in Harold's hair.

Harold suddenly took John's cock all the way into his mouth and sucked hard.

John's eyes flattered closed as he came hard.

Harold swallowed all of John's come and released John now soft cock. John slid down to the floor, his legs felt like wet noodles. He reached for Harold and pulled him close. They kissed gently for several long moments.

'Are you hard?' John asked.

Harold blushed. 'I came as I performed fellatio on you.'

'Really? You must really like giving blow jobs.'

'Yes. I'm discovering much about myself.'

They sat there for a few more minutes and then stood up. John was going to take Harold back to his apartment and hopefully they would both learn things about themselves.   
************

Weeks later, John watched as the latest number ran to her son and wrapped him in a hug. They had saved her and all she wanted was to see her son.

Something in John's chest clenched; Joss would never get to hug her son.

That night he invited Harold over to his apartment. He knew himself well enough to know that if he was alone he would do something stupid like drink himself into a haze. He was not looking forward to his dreams tonight.

Now, John and Harold were sitting on John's couch watching a truly horrible werewolf movie. They were close and his hand was kneading Harold's thigh. John might be in a funk, but he still enjoyed touching Harold.

'Is something wrong?' Harold asked.

'No. Why do you ask?'

'You just seem quiet.'

'Oh. Will you sleep with me tonight?'

'Of course. Do you mean sleep as in sleep or sleep as in amorous activities?'

'I was hoping for both.'

'Certainly.'

They got up and walked over to John's bed. They undressed. John tried to help Harold remove his suit, but their hands got in the way. John took off his white dress shirt and watched Harold work on his own clothes. He was of the opinion that Harold wore too many layers.

Harold's fingers moved with practiced ease. As he shed each layer he let them fall to the floor instead of neatly folding them. John had to grin; maybe he was rubbing off on Harold. Of course he planned to rub off on Harold in a sexual way too.

Once Harold was naked John dropped kisses on Harold's bare shoulder while Harold's fingers combed through John's hair. 

They fell onto John bed and John moved his lips up to Harold's lips. They were warm.

He moved downward and rubbed his cheek against Harold's rough chest hair. John sucked on one of Harold's pink nipples and Harold groaned. 

He licked skin and followed the line of dark hair to Harold's hard cock. He thought about sucking him off, but decided against it. Instead he moved back up until their cocks were pressed against each other. Grabbing both cocks he stroked them.

Harold gasped and kneaded John's shoulders.

Harold intertwined his finger with John's and the stroked faster and faster.

He could feel his orgasm coming and he bit down Harold's shoulder.

Harold came wetting their hands and John came shortly afterward. John was wrung out and settled against Harold.

Harold wrapped his arm around John and held him tight.  
***********

John walked into his apartment and saw Joss sitting on his couch. Yellow light from his window lit her hair, giving her a halo. He went over to the couch and sat next to her. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. She looked as exactly the same as always.

'Joss?' 

'Hi, John,' Joss said as she took his hand and held it in her own. Her skin was soft and warm.

'What are you doing here?'

'I just wanted to tell you that you're doing good work and to keep it up.'

'I don't understand.'

'You will when you wake up.'

John startled awake. He was in his apartment, but it was surrounded by darkness. Harold was warm weight on his chest. 

Harold stirred. 'John? Is something wrong. Did you have a nightmare?'

'Nope. I just... Do you ever dream about people you've lost.'

'Not usually. When I created The Machine I dreamed of its code. Is there anything I can do?'

'It's okay. Just go back to sleep.'

Harold setteled back down against John's chest and held him tight. John tried to go to sleep, but he couldn't stop thinking about what Joss had said. Most of the time when he dreamed about Joss it was of her being shot, but he thought maybe that dream had been just important. 

He would indeed keep doing good work not only for Joss, but also for Harold and himself. It wasn't a happy ending like in the story books his mother used to read him, but it was good enough.


End file.
